What Makes a Girl
by rhombus
Summary: Kyle and Oliver's adventures in parenting. Spring 2020.


**What Makes a Girl**

Sierra could be blunt. She could be downright rude sometimes. But Oliver didn't really mind so much. It was part of her charm. And she was pretty good about keeping that blase attitude toward politeness in-house, so to speak. He wasn't getting any angry calls from the principal.

And it wasn't as if she was trying to be ill-mannered at home; it was just a piece of the puzzle that made her so specifically _her_, as inherent to her nature as having strawberry blond hair, blue eyes, and a sly smile.

So he wasn't surprised when she plopped herself down on the couch one night, rested her head against his arm, and, staring up at him with a confident glint in her eyes, said, "Don't bring your boring police junk when you take us to see the panda, Dad."

He turned to Kyle, who was busy stacking clean glasses in the kitchen cupboard, and silently requested an explanation. Kyle merely smiled at him, that same sly smile that was flanking him now on both sides.

He brought his attention back to Sierra. "What panda? What are you talking about?"

Sierra rolled her eyes at him, but she didn't look bothered. Amusement twinkled in her gaze—amusement and affection for her lumbering old oaf of a dad who _never _seemed to know what she was talking about, he supposed.

"You're taking me to the zoo," she said matter-of-factly, picking at the fabric of his pants leg with her small, pointed fingers. "For spring break."

"Oh, I am, am I?" He shot a quick glance Kyle's way. "Is this something you and your pop cooked up behind my back again?"

Sierra tried to suppress a smile, her face turning red with guilt. "_Noooooooooo._"

Sierra also had a bad habit of lying. A lot. But he didn't mind that so much either, because she wasn't very good at it, and usually copped to it when called out. He decided to humor her this time. "So, what? Are you saying this was _my_ idea? Because if it wasn't you and it wasn't your pop... then that just leaves me." He poised a hand over her stomach, the unspoken threat of a tickle-attack understood between them. She said she had gotten too old for tickles, at the mature age of ten, but he knew better. It was a universal truth: One could _never_ be too old for tickles.

Kyle walked up behind them, wiping his hands on his jeans, then turned the corner quickly and dropped down onto the sofa on the other side of Sierra.

"Are you interrogating my Goose?"

Sierra didn't honk when Kyle said it anymore, but the improbable nickname had stuck anyway, much to Oliver's secret delight. It was a heartwarming reminder of their near weekly trips to the lake before Sierra had started school.

He tried to mask his pleasure, hardening his expression into semi-stern Cop-Face. "Mr.... Lewis, is it?" He feigned ignorant indifference. "Are you representing Ms. Fish in this matter?"

Kyle's lips twitched into a mirthful grin, and he pulled Sierra closer to his side, away from Oliver's tickle-threatening fingers. "Why, yes, Officer. I do believe I am." He cupped a hand over Sierra's ear and began whispering. Sierra sucked her lower lip into her mouth, concentrating hard on his words.

Finally, she looked up at Oliver, her eyes like clear crystals. Clear, devious crystals. "My lawyer told me to deny everything. And that you should take _all _the blame, for everything_ ever_, or else he's gonna... umm..." She whipped her head around quickly and stage-whispered, "What was it again?" Kyle bent his head low, his dark eyes never leaving Oliver's, then spoke in a hushed tone. Sierra nodded, continuing, "Or else _he's_ gonna deny everything." She squinted, her head whipping around once more. "I don't get it. What does that mean?"

Kyle ignored her question; instead, he shot Oliver a knowing look. Realization hit like a ton of sex-withholding bricks, and a hot blush spread through Oliver's cheeks. He hoped to God Kyle didn't start explaining what he meant, because that kind of talk could scar a kid for life.

And then there was the threat itself. He didn't believe it, not for a second, because even if Kyle meant it, Oliver knew how to get him to give. Kyle was a pretty deep, complex guy, but when it came to his, er, romantic desires, he was as simple as _want, need, take_.

So, when he did cave in to Kyle's ridiculously flimsy, entirely inappropriate threat, he did so _only _to change the subject. For Sierra's sake. Because even though Kyle liked to tiptoe along the edge of propriety, there were some things that Oliver kept sacred. Keeping his ten-year-old daughter safe from... mature topics was one of those sacred duties.

He let out a deep breath and held up his hands in defeat. "All right, all right. To the zoo we go. Is there a panda at the Philly Zoo, though? I know they have polar bears. That sounds fun, right? You like polar bears. They remind you of that soda commercial."

The affronted look on Sierra's face let him know quite clearly that she was _not _interested in seeing the polar bears _at all_.

He snapped his fingers as a sudden thought hit him. "Oh! I think there's a giant panda at the National Zoo in D.C." He looked up at the ceiling and started calculating drive times in his head. "We could probably make it there in, say, three or four hours, if we left before seven... depending on traffic..."

Turning excitedly back to his family, he was met with two sets of beady, unimpressed eyes.

"Don't be stupid, Dad," Sierra said.

"Yeah, _Dad_," Kyle repeated unhelpfully. "Don't be stupid. She wants to see the _baby_ panda."

Sierra nodded enthusiastically, beaming at Kyle as if he were sunshine on a cloudy day.

"What baby panda?"

"This one." Kyle pulled his phone out of his pocket and fiddled with the screen. He offered the phone to Sierra, letting her hit the last button, like always, then flipped it over, presenting Oliver with the finger-smudged vision of an adorably fluffy little panda cub.

He tried not to smile. He didn't think he did such a great job at it. He crossed his arms over his chest instead. "And where might one _find_ this little guy?"

"It's a girl," Kyle said. "And she's in San Diego."

"San Diego? As in... _California_?"

Kyle nodded, his full attention on his phone as he tapped the screen, probably scrolling through his e-mail. "That's the one."

"But... But..." Oliver's arms uncrossed and started waving wildly in front of him, seemingly of their accord, much to his embarrassment. "That's on the other side of the country!"

"Da-aaaaad!" Sierra whined.

"You know, babe," Kyle said, sarcasm not so much dripping but gushing out of his tone, "they've got these amazing flying machines now, and people can go practically anywhere on the earth in less than a day. I hear they're pretty safe."

Sierra laughed, kicking her legs out in front of her, stretching for her toes with flexed fingers. She'd been practicing her ballet recently in all manner of ways.

"Plus," Kyle added, "you've got vacation time, and I know we've got enough in savings. Let's go someplace nice for once!"

"Yeah Dad!" Sierra piped in.

"Yeah Dad!" Kyle mimicked.

Against those twin stares, he didn't stand a chance.

He sighed, and the two expectant faces burst into identically bright smiles. And then they high-fived, adding insult to injury.

"I haven't said 'yes' yet!"

Kyle reached across Sierra and patted Oliver twice on the knee. "Sure you did, babe. It's written all over your adorably squishy face." Before Oliver could swat Kyle's hand away, it was up at his cheek, pulling on the skin in a gentle pinch.

"Stop it," he groaned, but he didn't actually move to stop him.

Sierra snorted, brought her fist to her mouth to try to hide it, then started coughing. "Squishy face," she repeated through giggles. He could tell by the crafty look in those bright, clever eyes that she was storing that one away, ready to bust it out when she wanted to win an argument.

Then Kyle's phone was in front of his squishy face again, a sweeping ocean vista painting the screen.

"What's that?" He took the phone from Kyle, freeing Sierra from the arm that hovered over her uncomfortably.

"The view from the hotel room I just booked us."

"W-wow," he said, rubbing his chin. "That's, uh... that looks expensive." He started scrolling down the page, but before he could get to their reservation confirmation Kyle swiped the phone from him and shoved it in his back pocket.

"It's not," he said, a bit hastily. "I mean, I've budgeted out the whole trip, and we're good. We can do this." He closed his eyes, let out a heavy breath. "We _need_ to do this."

Oliver knew he was right. They all needed a break, a chance to relax away from home. Between shifts at the hospital, at the station, coordinating Sierra's rides to and from school, and ballet class, and softball practice, and cheerleader camp... they could use some time just to be together as a family again.

Maybe he hadn't been spending enough time with Sierra lately. Maybe that's why she hadn't taken after... no. He stopped those thoughts in their tracks. He spent every moment he could with Sierra. She was happy, they were all happy, if a little busy, but there was nothing wrong. Nothing lacking. He had everything his heart could ever desire—_had _ever desired.

He closed his eyes and smiled. "So," he said, slapping his knee. "When do we leave?"

Sierra hopped up off the couch, threw her fist in the air, and _whooped!_ Before anyone could say anything else, she leaned in to peck Oliver on the cheek, then ran in a circle around the room, pumping her arms as if she were holding her favorite silver pom-poms.

Kyle scooted over on the couch, and following Sierra's lead, kissed Oliver lightly on the cheek. He quickly dove in again, this time pressing his lips against Oliver's mouth. He lingered for a moment, and Oliver closed his eyes, relishing the feel, wondering if it would ever stop being so amazing. Maybe when they were old and their lips were all cracked and dried up like elephants. He chuckled at the image, which caused Kyle to draw back. Kyle smiled, mouthed a very quiet 'thank you,' then vaulted off the couch and caught Sierra around the waist from behind, spinning her in the air.

"We did it, Goose!"

And then Sierra honked. Oliver didn't know if his heart could feel any more love than it did at that moment.

Finally, Kyle set her down on the ground and she flounced toward the hall, probably off to her room to call her friends about their grand California adventure.

Kyle sauntered over to the couch, a small grin on his face, and collapsed back onto the cushion next to him. "I guess I won't be needing to deny you anything after all."

Oliver grabbed his hand and brought it to his mouth for a quick kiss. "Good."

Throwing his arm around Oliver's shoulders, Kyle snuggled in closer, and Oliver felt again, for the gazillionth time, how lucky he was, how undeserving, how _blessed _to have such a family. Just as Kyle leaned in to nuzzle his nose under Oliver's ear, just the way Oliver liked, Sierra's head popped back into the room, his fingers gripping the corner of the hallway entrance.

"My dads are big dorks!" she squealed, then disappeared back behind the wall, her light footfalls trailing away toward her bedroom.

Oliver stared opened-mouthed at her retreat, while Kyle leaned over and nipped at his bottom lip with a little growl. "You _are_ a dork. But I love ya anyway."

Miffed, Oliver crossed his arms over his chest again. "So are you, apparently."

Kyle smiled, leaned in again for another quick peck. "Don't tell Goose, but she's a little dork, too."

From down the hall, muffled, came back a highly offended, _"Am not!" _Followed by a very loud _pffffffft!_

Kyle laughed. Oliver did too.

* * *

Sierra could be blunt, and a pinch rude. Not unlike Stacy. Or Kyle. It didn't trouble Oliver so much as make him think. She had all the biology of one and the love of the other, and it showed. Quite clearly.

Still... it nagged at him sometimes. That old voice of insecurity that poisoned his veins. She had both those gifts from Oliver himself, biology and love... yet she didn't resemble him at all. In looks nor personality.

But it didn't matter to him. He didn't need that. It was just a little strange. He just wondered at it.

That's all.

* * *

Sierra could be sneaky. And a little bit secretive.

She and Kyle huddled together in the back seat of the taxi, sharing soft whispers, looking very much like a company of conspirators, while Oliver sat in the front and tried not to _'annoy the driver to death'_ with his alternate route suggestions, as Sierra had so elegantly put it. Kyle had come quickly to his defense, asking Sierra to apologize, which she did, readily and sincerely. Because Kyle hung all the stars in the sky and anything he asked was impossible to refuse.

He couldn't fault Sierra for feeling that way. Kyle had the same effect on him.

But he didn't know if he liked the way they were whispering together. It unsettled him. They were up to something. Kyle glanced up at him, then handed a bottle of water to Sierra, who greedily swallowed half the contents down in one long chug. Then the whispers began again.

They finally pulled their heads apart when the taxi pulled up to the curb outside the terminal. They gathered together their bags, Sierra dragging along her pink Princess Ponzo suitcase, and wound their way through the labyrinthine corridors of the Llanview Airport.

It took them a few turns around the terminal, but they finally found the right gate, and were soon boarding. Sierra yawned as she handed the attendant her boarding pass, her eyelids drooping a little bit. Oliver looked down at his watch. _8:45AM_. She'd gotten plenty of sleep the night before. Maybe it was just the different air pressure in the tunnel to the plane.

They settled into their row, Sierra demanding the window seat, even though Oliver thought it would be best if she sat on the aisle side, since she would probably need to use the restroom during the flight. But he had been overruled, again, by the obstinate duo and their blade-sharp eyes.

"Fine," he relented, shoving the last of their bags into the overhead storage compartment. "Have it your way. But don't expect me to get up when you need to tinkle."

Sierra snorted, while Kyle shushed him, his face reddening with obvious embarrassment. Which made for a nice change, Oliver realized. He wiped the imaginary dust off his hands then sat down, unable to keep the satisfied grin off his face.

"What's that all about?" Kyle asked, swirling his hand absently in the direction of Oliver's smile.

"Don't know what you're talking about."

"Mm-hmm," Kyle said, closing his eyes, tucking his arms around himself, and settling a little deeper into his seat. "I bet." He brought his hand to his mouth to cover a loud yawn. Then Sierra did the same, her seated pose mimicking Kyle's completely.

Oliver narrowed his eyes at them. What was all this yawning about? It was almost as if they were talking in code, the little sneaks. He scowled at them a little while longer, until Sierra started humming the chorus of the latest Jam Boyz song, melting away all his suspicions, erasing the frown with a proud, fatherly smile. And then Kyle reached over and squeezed his hand, and he forgot what had been peeving him in the first place.

Once they were in the air, the hum of the engines a steady, comforting noise surrounding them, Oliver pulled out the safety pamphlet and read it over, front to back, for the second time. Because it never hurt to be extra prepared. He heard Kyle snort next to him, but he paid it no attention. Kyle wouldn't be laughing when Oliver was delivering them all to safety if—God forbid—something should go wrong.

"Safety is no joke, Kyle," he whispered. He didn't want to scare Sierra with any talk about planes crashing and oxygen masks. He stuffed the pamphlet back into the sleeve in front of him. "You're lucky I'm here to worry about this kind of stuff, since you obviously don't. I mean, even if it was _your_ idea to travel all the way across the country to see some little fuzzball that's probably going to sleep all day anyway, completely hidden from view."

He turned his shoulders to face Kyle... only to find his partner and daughter fast asleep, Sierra's face propped on Kyle's arm, Kyle's head resting gently on top of hers, both their mouths slightly open, snoring.

Oliver gaped at them, astonished. He checked his watch again. _9:45AM_. There's no way either of them should have been so tired as to fall asleep. He thought back to the taxi ride over. The whispers, the water bottle, the yawning. He quickly checked to make sure the seat belt sign was off, then unbuckled himself and shot out of his seat. Kyle's bag was at the front of the overhead storage compartment, and Oliver rifled through it, determined to solve the mystery.

His hand came across a small cardboard box, and he pulled it out.

"Typical," he muttered to himself, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. He shoved the open box of Nyquil gel caps back into Kyle's bag and resettled himself in his seat, staring balefully at his sleeping row-mates. Only Kyle Lewis, medical doctor, would dope himself and their little girl for a six-hour _morning _flight.

But he couldn't deny how cute they looked together, their heads in almost the exact position as when they had been conspiring in the back of the taxi cab. So guilty then, so innocent now.

Squeaking wheels steered his attention away from his lovable, sleeping scamps. The flight attendant pushed the heavy drink cart up next to him. "Something to drink, sir?"

"Do you have any ginger ale?" he whispered.

"Absolutely." She whispered back, fizzing open a can and pouring half the contents into a small plastic cup. "That your family?" she asked quietly, a pleasant smile on her face.

"Yeah," he said, sipping the cool soda. "Cute, right?"

Her smile stretched wider, and he could tell it was a genuine smile, not the plastic, rigid show of teeth born of the daily exercise of polite servitude.

She wheeled the cart forward one row, and he turned back toward Kyle and Sierra. They'd regret their little plot when they touched down in San Diego in a few hours, overcome with drowsiness, and no hotel to check into for four hours. And they'd expect him to take care of them, like always.

And he'd do it. Because he kind of loved taking care of them.

* * *

Sierra could be inquisitive. Thoughtful. She loved to learn, loved coming home from school and doing her science and history reading first thing, without needing to be cajoled into it, always asking them questions, requesting clarification for something that didn't quite add up to her.

It turned out she wanted to see the baby panda because the students in her class had to do a project on animals—their habitat, family structure, lifespan—and she had been assigned giant pandas by her teacher. She and Kyle had been chatting away about her project nonstop on the bus ride to the zoo.

"Have you seen baby pandas when they're first born?" she asked.

"Nope," Kyle said, most likely lying. "Have you?"

She squinched up her nose. "They look like gross, slimy slugs. It takes them a while to get cute."

Kyle feigned enthusiasm. "Oh really?" Or, at least Oliver assumed it was feigned. He didn't quite know. Kyle had always been interested in biology and zoology when they were in school together.

Oliver sighed, smiling. It didn't send guilt-heavy pangs through his chest anymore to think about their long-past college years. Maybe he was looking back at it with an extra dose of nostalgia, but when he left out those last few months, when he'd been so scared and awful and stupid, the rest of his college memories were kind of... sweet.

He'd fallen in love, been loved in return, had never felt anything like it before in his life. It was amazing, discovering there was someone in the world who knew who he truly was, and took him as he was, faults and all. Oh, he knew Kyle liked to say that he'd been perfect back then, didn't have any faults, but Oliver knew better. It didn't dim the love any to acknowledge his massive failures as a boyfriend, or as a man; it just meant that Kyle's love had been stronger than Oliver's self-hate, and that had been a comfort, always, through the darker times. Love without condition—it was a powerful force. He might have been miserable forever, without having met Kyle.

"You know," Kyle said, tapping Sierra on the nose, "_you_ kinda looked like a gross, slimy slug when you were first born. It took you _forever_ to get cute."

She gasped, truly offended. "Did not!"

"Maybe you're secretly a panda!" Kyle reached for her little wrists. "Lemme see those paws, missy."

Peals of laughter escaped her, and all was forgiven for Kyle's earlier impertinence.

"Is my Goose a secret panda?" He brought her fingers to his mouth and kissed them in rapid succession.

"No, Poppy, no!" she squealed out. She hadn't called Kyle 'Poppy' in years, and it sent a jolt of pleasure through Oliver's chest to hear it. He liked being reminded of the little girl she'd been. She was still young, of course, but she was starting middle school in the fall, and with that adventure would come streaks of new found independence. He knew he wasn't ready to let her go just yet, the little girl who thought the world began and ended with their family.

"Good," Kyle said, bringing her hand up for one last kiss. "I kinda like having you around. I don't wanna have to ship you off to China."

Sierra's eyes narrowed, and she whispered, "_You wouldn't_."

"I wouldn't let him," Oliver cut in, reaching across the seat to tug gently on her pony tail. "Or I'd stow away and just have to come with you."

Kyle steepled his fingers together and laughed evilly. "That can be arranged. And then all of your stuff shall be mine!" He _mwahahaha_-ed for a little while longer, until Sierra poked him hard in the stomach and he let out at pathetic _oof!_

Oliver couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, it's a good thing no one's going anywhere."

"Except to the zoo!" Sierra exclaimed, thrusting her finger into the air then pointing it forward in an _'onward'_ gesture, as if she were magically directing the bus with that single digit.

Soon enough they had arrived at their Sierra-appointed destination, and Sierra raced toward the entrance before either Kyle or Oliver could hold her back.

"No running!" Kyle called out, and she immediately slowed to a fast walk, then took her place at the back of one of the box office lines, tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for the two of them to catch up.

When they did, Oliver wasted no time scooping her into his arms and carrying her to the gate instead. "Already got the tickets, sweet girl. We can go right in." With her so close, he was expecting a kiss on the cheek, like she used to do when she was younger and pleased with him.

She surprised him, instead, and slugged him on the shoulder. "Yeah! Go Dad!"

Oliver pulled his head back and looked at her, at his little girl who maybe wasn't so little anymore, and put her back down on the ground. He noticed that Kyle was watching him very closely. He shrugged at him, smiled, and then felt his breath catch in his throat when Kyle leaned in and kissed him on the cheek instead.

"Our hero," Kyle said, grinning. He winked at Oliver, then grabbed his hand as they waited to have their tickets scanned.

Oliver blushed, though he wasn't exactly certain why. Maybe it was just that his heart was pumping out more blood than his cheeks could handle.

They walked through the gates and the first thing they saw was a doubledecker bus stopped in front of a frozen lemonade stand. Riders on the top tier had their cameras out, talking in excited whispers, as they snapped photos of the peacock strutting on the roof. He suddenly stopped and fanned out his glossy, colorful feathers, as if he knew he had caught everyone's eye and he _wanted_ to be the center of attention.

Sierra gaped at the bird. "Did she escape?" she wondered aloud.

Oliver listened to the tour guide on the bus, who explained that the bird wasn't part of any exhibit, but had rather wandered into the zoo many, many years ago on his own and just settled in like he owned the place.

"It's a boy," he told Sierra. "And he's just visiting. Like us."

"Wo-o-ow," she said, stretching the syllable out. And then she was off again, skipping toward a bright orange sign with a white silhouette of a koala. "Let's got see the koalas! They're right over there!"

Oliver crossed toward her. "What about the pandas?"

She sucked in her lower lip and nodded at him with a look of infinite patience on her face. "We'll get there soon, Dad. Don't worry." And he couldn't remember her ever looking or sounding more like Kyle in her entire short life.

He looked over at Kyle, who was studying the map handed to them at the gate. He dragged his finger in loops and figure eights, his eyes set in concentration. "Sierra, hon, you wanna see the tigers?"

"Yeah."

They started walking together toward the koalas.

"And the gorillas?"

"Yup."

"And the reptile house?"

"Yeah."

"Wait—" Oliver cut in. "You wanna see the reptile house? Really?"

Sierra kept her eyes forward, not losing a step. "Mm-hmm."

Kyle nudged him in the shoulder. "The girl likes snakes." Then quieter, "Must get that from her mom."

"_Shhhhh!_" Oliver hissed, a little too loudly.

Sierra stopped and stared at them, a suspicious look on her face, as if they were keeping secrets from her. "What?"

"Nothing," Oliver said, his voice unusually high. He tried very hard to ignore the way Kyle laughed at him under his breath. Luckily, they had made it to the koalas, so Sierra was suitably distracted.

"So—" Oliver rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "When _are_ we gonna see Baby Panda? And Mr. and Mrs. Panda, too." He had to admit, he was kind of excited about seeing them after listening to Kyle and Sierra gab about it the whole bus ride over.

"Dad. Come on," Sierra said. "Pandas don't get married." She stepped onto the wooden bridge that cut through the koala enclosure, then reached back for Kyle's hand.

"Sure they do." The three of them stopped in front of the first eucalyptus tree, where a large gray koala clung to the branches, asleep. "How else do you think they got their little baby?"

Kyle's eyebrows shot up. So did Sierra's. What did he say now? That was a perfectly responsible answer to give a ten-year-old about animal reproduction.

Sierra opened her mouth, then shut it again. She furrowed her brow, then blew the air out of her cheeks. She was steeling herself for something. He could tell.

"But..." she started, then brought a balled fist up to her mouth. "You and Mom weren't married when you had me."

_Ohhhhh... _

_Shit. _

Sometimes his own dunderheadedness amazed even him.

Sierra brought her thumb to her mouth and chewed on the nail, a habit she must have picked up from Kyle. "And you and Pop aren't married," she said, "but you're still my parents."

Oliver's mouth went slack, and his mind went absolutely stark-black blank. He looked over at Kyle, hoping—desperately hoping—for a save from his better half. But Kyle just stood there looking at the sleeping koala, his lips sucked in, his eyebrows reaching for his scalp.

"I... uhhhhhhh..." The sound stretched out, not to buy him time, but because he was completely incapable of closing his mouth.

"Dad?" Sierra had her hands on her hips, waiting.

"Yeah?" he said, weakly.

"Where's the bathroom?"

"Oh." He looked at Kyle, who was apparently enrapt by the stationary, sleeping koala. "Um... we'll be right back."

Wordlessly, Kyle handed him the map, then rested his forearms on the wooden railing.

When they got back from the restrooms, Kyle was waiting for them outside the koala treehouse, a subtle grin on his face. "So, where to next, my little fishies?" He took the map back from Oliver and gestured forward. "We could cut up through there, see some normal bears, then get straight to the pandas. Or..." He gestured to the right. "We take the long way round, see the camels, the wild boars... the..." Kyle squinted at an icon on the map. "Is that spider?"

"Pandas, pandas, pandas!" Sierra chanted. Oliver was glad she was taking charge. He was too busy trying to figure out if he'd upset Kyle with his latest bout of idiotic-brain syndrome to make decisions. That, and he always got distracted when Kyle started waving his hands around. Kyle had amazingly beautiful hands, though Oliver had never told him so—for no discernible reason whatsoever.

Maybe he'd been afraid that Kyle would make a crack about his hand looking better with a ring on it. Which was a stupid thing to be afraid of, he knew. Despite the fact that they had reunited at Kyle's wedding to Nick, the actual topic of _marriage_ had never seriously come up between them, even after a decade of living together as a family. They'd gone through all the other formalities, moving in together, opening a joint back account, power of attorney, Sierra's second parent adoption. And yet neither of them had brought up the M-word. It seemed sometimes they had actively _avoided _mentioning it, when the topic was poised for introduction.

And Oliver wasn't sure why. Maybe Kyle didn't want to get married. He didn't know. He never asked. It wasn't that he was _afraid_ to ask. Well, okay. That was exactly it. He _was _afraid to ask. Because what if Kyle said no? What if Kyle said _yes_? What if it just caused them to have a fight?

No. They were good as they were. Everything was perfect. If Kyle wanted to talk marriage, they'd talk marriage. Until then, he'd keep his head low, his mouth shut, and carry on.

"Oh, wow. Look at the ducks!" Sierra said, pointing to a pair of unremarkable mallards that were sleeping on an unoccupied patch of grass. Like the peacock, they were merely squatters, but that didn't seem to deter Sierra's enthusiasm at all.

"What did she have for breakfast?" Kyle asked. "A heaping bowl of white sugar?"

Oliver laughed. "_You_ fed her."

"Oh yeah." Kyle smiled one of his perky, carefree smiles. And it made Oliver's whole body relax. Like always.

"Hmm?" Sierra said, coming to a stop in front of them.

"Nothing, Goose." Kyle waved her forward. "Let's go see your panda bears."

"You know, my teacher told us that people used to say that pandas weren't bears, but that's stupid because they look like bears..." Sierra babbled on as they made their way to Panda Canyon. Oliver tried to pay attention, but he kept getting distracted by Kyle's hand as they walked.

It _would_ look better with a ring on it, he thought to himself.

* * *

Sierra could be underhanded. Tricky. A rule-bender.

But... all kids were like that, right? They had a fluid relationship with rules and personal ethics... It wasn't that _his_ kid was exceptionally bad, or that he'd failed her as a parent. He was sure of it. She'd grow older and wiser and become the perfect little law-abiding citizen he knew she could be.

_It was just a phase._

He still got a little woozy when that particular phrase popped up; but since it was true in this case, it didn't give him much pause.

They were walking down the boardwalk at the beach when the whispers started up again. The secrets. Kyle leaned over, bent practically at a ninety degree angle, to bring his ear down to Sierra's cupped hand. Oliver didn't know why it was starting to bother him so much. Maybe it was because it seemed like they were purposefully leaving him out. And that meant they were up to no good.

Kyle had stopped in front of Sierra on the sidewalk, crouching down to meet her at eye level, a very serious expression on his face. He shook his head, and said something like, "distraction..." and, "The hair's too short," which must have been code talk for whatever new scheme they were brewing.

"_What_ is going on with you two?" he finally said. He hated how exasperated and—and whiny he sounded.

"Nothing," they replied simultaneously, the same panicked, caught-red-handed look in their eyes.

"Whatever," he mumbled, shoving his hands in his shorts pockets, and it was kind of freaky how they both smiled the exact same apologetic smile at him.

Kyle stood. "No, Sierra was just saying... she wants to go to Dog Beach first, then boogie-boarding after lunch. That sound okay?"

Oliver's eyebrows shot up. "Dog Beach? But you hate dogs."

"That _is_ true. But the little one here _loves_ them, apparently."

Sierra nodded her head vigorously. "Uh-huh!"

Kyle winked at him. "So that's why _you're_ taking her to Dog Beach while I stroll around here and remain pleasantly drool-free, scoping out menus."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. It's fine. She's really excited." Kyle patted Sierra on the head, which caused her to scowl at him just the tiniest bit. "Why don't I call you in an hour or so?"

Oliver shrugged his assent, then let out a surprised "Woah!" as Sierra jetted off down the boardwalk toward the sandy dunes that hid the water from sight. "Slow down!" he called out.

She turned her head, barely losing speed, and called back, "Hurry _up!_"

He rolled his eyes at Kyle, who had traces of an enigmatic smile on his face.

"Talk to you in an hour." Oliver leaned in to dot a quick kiss on Kyle's cheek, then rushed off after his errant, misbehaving child.

He never in a million years would've admitted it to Kyle, but he kinda liked it when Sierra misbehaved. His grandpa would've called that mischievous streak _'moxie.' _And he'd rather his daughter had an overabundance of spirit, even if it got her in trouble, than to feel like she had to hide any part of herself for any reason. To hold back. To pretend to be something she wasn't.

Okay, he was getting a little too maudlin for his own liking. He came up behind Sierra and grabbed her around the waist, lifting her her feet off the ground and zooming with her up and over the dune, before finally depositing her on the warm sand.

"_Ohmygod,_" she breathed out all at once. "_Look at all the dogs!_"

Oliver, too, felt a little overwhelmed by what he saw.

Hundreds of dogs. Every size, shape, breed. Chasing after tennis balls, crashing through the waves, barking at each other, digging and snuffling and panting and—_Jeez_, that was a lot of dogs. He was pretty sure Kyle would've fainted at the sight of it. And with that thought, a sudden and strange sense of longing came over him. He missed Kyle already. They'd been in San Diego almost four days now, and it was the first time he and Kyle had separated for any noticeable length of time. Four straight days of Kyle, uninterrupted by phone calls and work emergencies, four piddling days and he was becoming a co-dependent mess! Pathetic!

But... it couldn't be helped. Kyle just _did_ things to him. Even after all these years. He'd never once grown tired of him, never found their relationship stale or unexciting, even when, for all their domestic routines, it could've easily been. He was addicted to Kyle, addicted to their comfortable choreography as a couple, as a family.

And there was always Sierra to add a bit of surprise and wonder to their lives. As predictable as loving Kyle was, Sierra was a whirlwind of bewilderment and marvels, spinning magic and miracles out of their Everyday Normal.

So, instead of missing Kyle like a lovesick crazy person, he watched Sierra. She tiptoed up to a friendly looking golden retriever, who seemed content to sit and watch the other dogs.

"Excuse me, miss," she said to the dog's presumable owner, an older woman in a floppy sun hat slathering her arms with sun tan lotion. "Can I pet your dog?"

Oliver felt a wave of pride swell in his chest, pleased and surprised that Sierra could still manage to show her polite, demure side to strangers. He wasn't a complete failure at molding her into a presentable human being after all.

The woman turned to Sierra, squinting at her from under the brim of her hat. "Yeah. Sure, hon. Halle's a sweet old thing. You like dogs?"

Sierra barely nodded her head. She was too busy concentrating on the dog. She stuck out her fingers, offering them to the dog's nose for a sniff. What she got instead was a big, sloppy lick. A sudden panic struck Oliver—that Sierra would snap into a foul mood at the unexpected contact. That she would make this stranger think Oliver was an unreliable father who raised an uncontrollable child, that she would think _his_ daughter, his beautiful, precious, sweet, amazing daughter wasn't fit to be out in public with that brassy attitude of hers that he secretly, ruefully adored.

But Sierra surprised him. Her eyes widened and she pulled her hand back, but she didn't freak out. Crouching down, she wiped her hand on the bottom of her capri shorts then reached for the dog again, this time aiming for the top of the head, away from the mouth. Oliver breathed a sigh of relief. The woman continued coating her arms with lotion, then popped in a set of ear buds and fiddled with her music player. Oliver lowered himself onto the ground and settled in, wiping sand off his hands onto his shorts, staring at the waves as they rolled over the shore. He'd seen pictures of the ocean all his life, but nothing really prepared him for how _loud_ it could be, how formidable, how hypnotizing.

They stayed there for a while, Sierra alternating between patting Halle on the head and drawing flowers in the sand with her toes. Eventually she sat and started piling sand up to make a mountain with caverns and tunnels and thick stairs crawling around the slopes toward the peak.

"Dad?" Inquisitive blue eyes gazed up at him.

"Yeah?"

"Have you even seen a puppy being born?"

His eyebrows pinched together. "Um. Nope. Don't think so."

"Okay."

He wondered for a bit at her random question. She seemed almost fixated on the subject of baby animals recently. Maybe she was angling for a puppy. And Oliver would have given her one, too, except for Kyle.

It had been a struggle getting the full story from Kyle when the subject had first come up, back when they first moved in together so many years ago. Pulling information out of him had been as difficult as pulling teeth... how when he was a kid, he'd been put in a home with a dog, how that wasn't supposed to happen, but no one had checked too thoroughly on any of the home visits. How the dog had gotten aggressive, and attacked. Oliver had always wondered about the small scars on Kyle's eyebrow, on his elbow, but he'd never felt comfortable asking, not when they were in college at least. And when they came back together again after so long a separation, the giddy tornado of love that had swept them up made everything else unimportant.

So, definitely no dogs. They could get Sierra some other kind of baby animal. A kitten or a hamster or something. She was probably old enough to take responsibility for a pet. He'd ask her about it when they got back to Llanview. Well, he'd check with Kyle first.

Sierra's mountain-castle was becoming quite large and detailed. His burgeoning little engineer, she had even sculpted small balconies for tiny sentries made out of seaweed bulbs.

"That's beautiful," he said.

Sierra patted more sand against the side of the long, thick drawbridge she was building across a muddy moat. "I know," she chirped, as if he'd said the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh, well," Oliver mock-scoffed. "That's good. As long as you know."

"Take a picture with your phone," she demanded. "So I can show Pop."

Oliver rolled his eyes, shook his head with loving exasperation, and pulled out his phone. He stared at the screen for a minute before tapping on the camera setting. Something seemed off.

Wrong.

It was the clock. It shouldn't have been that late. Had it really been that long since they'd parted? He and Sierra'd been out here for close to two hours, and no word from Kyle. He checked his inbox. No missed calls. No messages. No texts.

No Kyle.

And Kyle knew he was a chronic worrier. He'd jibed him about it on enough occasions. It wasn't like him to go radio-silent like this.

Oliver tried not to panic. He told himself not to panic. Kyle was perfectly safe... in this strange town where he knew nobody and had wandered off without his partner, the cop. Okay. Panicking was obviously in the cards. No use in avoiding it.

He speed-dialed Kyle's number, his heart pounding faster and harder with each unanswered ring. "C'mon, Kyle," he muttered, trying to keep the worry out of his tone for Sierra's sake. "Pick up."

"What's wrong, Dad?"

He'd obviously done a poor job of covering. "Nothing, sweetie. Just calling your Pop."

"He's busy," Sierra said, cryptically.

"What?" The ringing stopped as his call was transferred to Kyle's voice mail.

Sierra shrugged her shoulders. "He's probably busy."

Oliver's eyes narrowed. "Do you know something?"

"What?"

"Sierra."

"_What?_"

"Where's your father?"

She shrugged again, concentrating on her construction. "I dunno."

"Here. C'mon." Oliver sprang to his feet, startling their old friend the golden retriever. He reached his hand down to help Sierra up. "Let's go."

"Not yet. I'm still working."

The golden retriever, intrigued by their movements, waddled over and stomped one paw into the side of the mountain, the sand crumbling in like an imploded building site.

"Ahh!" Sierra cried out. "No! Crap!"

"Language. That's a dollar," Oliver said quickly, in a rush to get a move on. Sierra reluctantly grabbed his hand, a pout the size of Texas on her face, and stood.

"Where we going?"

"To find your pop."

"Not yet," she whined. Oliver stopped and squinted at her. She was getting better at hiding things from him, but he could still tell when something was up. He cherished that ability, for as long as it would last. He didn't even want to _think_ about the kinds of things Sierra would start to hide from him when she was a teenager.

He crouched in front of her and took her gently by the shoulders. "Sierra. Honey." She looked down at him through hooded, guilty eyes. "Your pop said he would call me, but he didn't, and I need to know why. If _you _know why... if you know where he is... please tell me. This is important."

Sierra heaved a huge sigh, her whole body rocked by the movement. "Come on." She started walking back toward the boardwalk. Oliver followed her determined gait all the way back to the place they'd left Kyle, where he and Sierra had had their secret confab with the code talk and the whispers.

Oliver looked around. "Okay. Now what?"

Sierra pointed toward one of the shops. Or, actually, it was a salon. A braiding salon.

His brows pinched together. "I don't understand."

Sierra merely rolled her eyes at him and marched toward the door. Oliver followed, dumbfounded. It wasn't until he saw a familiar profile through the large front window when things started to click into place. But then they got all un-clicked when his brain was finally able to interpret the data gathered by his eyes.

Kyle—his beautiful Kyle—getting _cornrows_ braided into his hair.

The door jangled shut behind him as he stormed into the salon and walked straight up to a seated, bored-looking Kyle.

"_What the hell are you doing to your head?_"

A deafening silence overtook the room. The stylist's fingers stopped their rapid movements. Kyle's mouth dropped open. People sitting in the back chairs stretched out their necks, alarmed by the sudden outburst.

Finally, Kyle closed his mouth into a frown. "Language, Oliver. That's a dollar." He nodded solemnly toward Sierra. Oliver had forgotten about her in his momentary confusion, but he could feel her tight grip on the back of his shirt, could hear her shallow, quick breaths. He had scared her.

"I'm sorry, Sierra," he said—at the exact moment she blurted out, "I'm sorry, Pop!"

Kyle looked at her with sympathetic eyes. "It's okay."

And Oliver could feel her calm instantly. It must have been contagious, because he calmed, too. She hadn't been scared of him after all, but of the consequences of betraying Kyle's trust. If she didn't know by now the depths of Kyle's forgiving heart, then he didn't know if she'd ever learn.

The stylist looked at them with narrowed eyes, then her fingers went back to work on Kyle's head.

The sudden movement stirred Oliver's attention again.

"Kyle." The syllable was clipped. Disappointed. Almost... paternal.

"_What?_" Kyle said, sounding every bit the chastised, rebellious child. Oliver did not like how things were going.

"You look..." His hand swooped up and then back down. The right half of Kyle's scalp was swirled and criss-crossed with intricate trails of thick, tight braids. "You look ridiculous."

The stylist glanced up at him with an offended expression. "Hey!"

Her fingers kept at it, though, despite the distraction, pulling at Kyle's hair in a way that could only be described as _painful_. Kyle winced with each tug, but with a determined look on his face, like he didn't at all regret his decision to sit down in that chair and be violated by aggressive fingers and bad taste.

"Look, ma'am," Oliver started, his hands raised in a placating gesture, as if he were trying to convince a perp to drop her weapon. "I'm sorry. I'm sure the work is... is well done. But... look at him!" He gestured at Kyle. "He's so... he's so..."

Kyle glared at him through the mirror. "What, Oliver? What am I?"

Oliver looked from Kyle to the stylist, his mouth open, unwilling to say what everyone in the room knew he was going to say. Because it was true. "You're..."_ White. And OLD. _Kyle and the stylist stared at him with identical expectant expressions, daring him to come out with it. He glanced down at Sierra, hoping for a little support from her end, only to be met with the same expectancy. "Nothing," he finally said, a deep sigh drooping his shoulders. "Fine. Get your hair braided." He crossed his arms over his chest and mumbled under his breath, "Still acts like a nineteen year old..."

How was he supposed to run his hands through Kyle's thick, soft hair when it was all tied up tight on his head like that?

"Hey, this is your fault man." Kyle's reflection looked at him askance. "You and your stupid socks."

"What?" Oliver was momentarily rocked by complete and utter confusion. "Socks? What are you talking about?"

"Nothing." Kyle nodded to the stylist. "Keep braiding."

Oliver threw his hands up. "You and Sierra and your secrets and your weird fascination with my socks!"

"Wait, what?" Kyle motioned for the stylist to stop. She rolled her eyes, but her fingers ceased their incessant movement. "Did Sierra ask you about your socks?"

"I was putting them on before we headed out this morning and she grabbed them out of my hands and told me not to wear them."

Kyle's eyes suddenly narrowed. In his periphery, Oliver saw Sierra shuffle behind him, hiding. The downward turn of her head confessed her guilt to the room. Oliver had no idea what was going on. He opened his mouth, ready to say... anything, anything at all, but his confusion left him absolutely speechless.

"Why you... little... cheater!" Kyle growled out. "I can't believe you! That's it." He swung his arms in front of him, causing the stylist to drop the hair she'd been working on in frustration. "The bet's off. My cheating daughter is a cheating cheat who cheats a lot, so yes, please—" He tilted his head up toward the stylist. "—take these braids out. They're really great, you did a fantastic job, but I don't need them anymore." He jabbed his finger toward Sierra. "Because that little girl over there is a sneaky little cheat."

The stylist looked at him like he had grown a second head covered in ridiculously age-inappropriate cornrows. "Are you serious?"

"Yes. Please. Like I said. You do great work. But the bet's off. I didn't lose. The girl cheated."

Oliver finally found his voice. "This was a _bet_? About my _socks_?"

Kyle shrugged. "Yeah. I said you'd wear socks with your sandals. Sierra said you wouldn't. We made a bet."

"I can't believe you were going to do... _that_ to your head—again, no offense..." He glanced at the stylist, who was clearly miffed and sick of his whole family. "—because of a pair of socks!"

Kyle shrugged again. "A bet's not a bet unless the stakes are high."

"Cornrows and socks," Oliver said with an amazed shake of the head. "I'm living with crazy people."

Kyle's reflection winked at him. "You love us."

"I do. I really, really do."

They smiled at each other, and it was like the entire world slowed around them, and it was just them, and their love, and their naughty, underhanded cheat of a daughter whom they both loved more than anything else in the world.

"You're _absolutely_ sure you want these out?" The stylist had a comb poised over Kyle's head. "This is two hours worth of work."

Kyle nodded. "Yes. Please. God."

"I'm still gonna charge you, you know."

"That's all right," Kyle said, a mirthful smile on his face. He pointed a thumb at Sierra. "She's paying."

Sierra let out a little shriek of horror.

Oliver dropped his face into his hands and couldn't help but laugh. What the hell. They were on vacation. He'd have something entertaining to tell the guys at the station when they got back home.

* * *

Sierra could resemble him so much sometimes.

It was impossible, probably just a trick of his eyes, but Oliver could swear that Sierra was looking more and more like Kyle everyday. Maybe it was just their shared expressions, that common glint in their eyes when they were up to something together. Because, truth be told, she was more like Stacy in looks than anyone, with her ski-slope nose, pointed chin, determined gaze.

Through a bit of digging, Gigi had managed to get him photos of Stacy, from when she was younger, a girl Sierra's age, and the resemblance was astonishing. He pulled out old photos of himself, compared and contrasted, tried to find glimpses of himself in his daughter, came up empty. Reminded himself it didn't matter. If Stacy couldn't be here for Sierra in body, she at least left Sierra with some tangible part of herself. Oliver got to raise her, to love her, to watch her grow, watch her smile. That was enough. He didn't need anything more than that.

* * *

Sierra could be a bit of a mood-killer.

Sometimes having a kid was as good as having a chastity belt. Grandma, baseball, and Sierra. The trifecta of topics to railroad romance.

Oliver was lying in his bed, back home in Llanview, Kyle lazily draped over his chest, keeping him warm, keeping his heart steady, helping him to catch his breath after their very recent exertions. He explored the curves of Kyle's shoulders with his mouth—valleys and peaks long since memorized, but always worthy of a return trip. Kyle's breath stirred his hair.

"What time do we have to pick up Sierra from cheer camp? Three?"

Oliver's lips parted from Kyle's skin with a _pop!_

"Gah! Kyle! How many times?" He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to expunge all thoughts of their little girl. "_Please _don't talk about Sierra right after we just... we just... you know."

"Played a little game of _Master and Commander_?"

A chuckle, paper-thin, escaped against his will. "Yeah."

"Well, I'm sorry. I just want to make sure we don't forget the Goose in all the, uh, activities."

Oliver covered his already-closed eyes with an arm—as if it would help block the image of a honking, smiling Sierra from his mind—and groaned. "Using the nickname is _not helping_."

"You are too damn cute." Kyle pinched his cheek, then reached down and pinched his _other_ cheek. "You know that?"

Oliver laughed, too spent to fight Kyle off. But then, without warning, he felt his mouth tense, his smile fall. His brain was out of control, mixing together thoughts of Sierra, dancing, groping fingers. And his mind was in a bad, dark, uninvited place all of a sudden.

Kyle had seen it, picked up on the change. "Hey, what's up? This really upsetting you? We can, you know, put some clothes on..."

"No, it's just... I just... I worry."

"You? Worry? _Noooo_."

"No, seriously, Kyle. I mean, maybe I'm overreacting, but I do worry. A lot. About how much she loves dancing. If that might mean she'll end up like, well..." He swallowed. "Like her mom."

Kyle's warm hand was on his chest, patting it sweetly. "I don't think we have to worry about that."

"How can you be so sure?"

"'Cause she's got not one, but _two_ dads who love her and give her all the attention she needs."

"So?"

"So, I'm pretty sure it's a requirement for all strippers to have Daddy Issues."

Oliver mulled that over for a moment. Of course Kyle was right. Sierra was well-adjusted, well-loved, well on her way to a bright and fruitful future. She was the smartest kid in her class—like Kyle—and even though she loved dancing—like Stacy—that didn't mean she was going to grow up and do... that. Though, Kyle's smarts hadn't stopped _him _from taking off his clothes in a dark club.

With _that _particular image in his head, Oliver's pensive mood took a sudden turn toward playful, and he couldn't help but grin.

"So, as long as she doesn't take after her cowboy-stripper dad, we should be all right."

The chest pats stopped. Kyle's head tilted up and he glared at him, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Shut up."

"What? It's true. And, you know, you never did give me that private rodeo..."

Kyle's deep, rumbling laugh sent a pleasant wave of feeling through Oliver's chest. "It's been ten years, babe. I've hung up my spurs and chaps for good. Once I found the love of a good man, that was it. I had to give up the glamorous stripping life."

Oliver grasped Kyle by the shoulders and rolled them over so that he hovered above him. Then he swooped down and plunged into Kyle's mouth. Kyle hummed his pleasure at the aggressive contact. Just when Kyle's hands started roaming through Oliver's hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer, Oliver tilted his head back, breaking the liplock. He stayed close enough to feel Kyle's warm breath through his parted lips.

"So, I can't talk you into it at all?"

There was a promise in Kyle's dark, lusty eyes. If Oliver kissed him like that again, maybe they could broker some sort of deal. So he did. And again. And a fourth time, just to make sure the deal was properly sealed.

"Birthday," Kyle panted when they finally came up for air.

Oliver couldn't help but pout. "That's eleven months away."

"_My_ birthday."

"Ten months."

Kyle pulled his lower lip into his mouth, his brow deep-set in thought. "Sierra's birthday?"

"Ugh. Gross! Talk about Daddy Issues!"

Kyle laughed again, then darted up to nip Oliver's ear. "Well, every day is someone's birthday, somewhere."

Oliver nodded. "Including today."

Kyle gasped at him, wide-eyed, smiling, playful. "You know, you're right."

"Shocking."

"That you're finally right for once?"

"That you'd admit it. Now..." Oliver rolled off of Kyle and flicked his hand at him. "Go put on some clothes so I can watch you can take them off again."

"And if I don't...?" Kyle flashed him the cheekiest smile he had ever seen in his life. "You gonna put me over your knee and punish me again, _Daddy_?"

A half-groan, half-laugh rolled out of his chest. "Do _not_ call me that."

"Okay, okay."

"Get!"

"I'm gettin'! And you..." Kyle brought his lips in for a sweet, slow kiss. "Saddle up."

Oliver grabbed his face with both hands, angling for one last kiss. He savored Kyle's mouth, greedily sucking on first the fatter lower lip, then the perky, perfect upper. He finally released them after a good, thorough tasting, then nudged Kyle up. "Yeehaw, Cowboy."

Kyle hopped out of bed and rooted around the dresser drawers, looking for an outfit worthy of shedding quickly.

A hot streak of pride—_or was it embarrassment?_—shot through Oliver's chest when he saw the large red hand print coloring the pale expanse of Kyle's naked bottom.

* * *

Sierra could be a complete mystery to him sometimes.

He often wondered if it wasn't right—how interested he was in knowing everything there was to know about his daughter, in being fascinated with her brain and every single one of her thoughts and everything that piled together to make her _her_. Did it make him clingy? Desperate? Weird? He sometimes thought about asking other parents he knew if they felt the same, but the fear would always overtake him, shutting down that line of questioning right quick.

He didn't want anyone thinking he didn't know what the hell he was doing. Even if it was true, pretty much all of the time. No one had to _know_ it was true.

Except Kyle. Because Kyle apparently knew everything.

He certainly had an in with Sierra that Oliver lacked. Because they still had their secret whispers, their little chats that Oliver apparently wasn't allowed to take part in. It was a part of Kyle's special relationship with Sierra, and he tried not to begrudge it, but his patience wore thin. It wore very thin. Two-dimensional-objects-living-in-three-dimensional-space thin.

Handing the delivery kid some cash for a tip, he called over his shoulder, "Food's here!" and was answered with silence. He slid the pizza box onto the counter and, wiping his hands on his jeans, wandered down the hall.

He peaked his head into his and Kyle's bedroom, but it was dark, empty. Then he heard the hushed voices. Ever since San Diego it was starting to become a very familiar sound.

Sierra was sitting on her bed, still dressed in her cheer clothes. Kyle had one knee down on the carpet and they were speaking softly, a serious look on both their faces. Oliver cleared his throat, maybe sounding a little more impatient than he meant to. Both their heads snapped in his direction.

"Um... dinner's ready," he said, throwing a thumb over his shoulder.

Kyle smiled at him benignly. "We'll be out in a sec, okay?" And then their attention was right back on each other, and it suddenly _wasn't_ okay.

"No." Oliver crossed his arms over his chest. "It's dinner time. Not 'in a sec'. _Now_."

He was putting his foot down, being a dad. But... he didn't like the way he sounded. It was a tone he seldom used, because it was painfully easy to recognize, and it reminded him of... of his own father. Of strictness and harshness and unmovable obstinacy. He realized—it didn't come from a place of anger or lovelessness. It came from insecurity. From not understanding everything he wanted to understand and being afraid of what he might find out.

And he wished he was better than that. He really did. But he wasn't.

Kyle stared at him like he had something on his face. Not angry, but confused. "Oh-kay," he drawled. He stood and, grabbing him gently by the arm, pulled Oliver a few feet out of the room. "What's up with you?"

Oliver scoffed. "What's up with _me_? What's up with you two?" he hissed out, trying to keep his voice down. "Why all the secrets? The whispers? How come every time I turn around you two have your heads together and if you're not totally ignoring me then you're shooing me away?"

Kyle laughed. He actually had the audacity to laugh. Oliver couldn't believe it.

"Ollie—"

"Don't _'Ollie'_ me."

"_Ollie_," Kyle said again, with a pointed look. "Calm down for a second. No one's keeping any secrets." He looked back over his shoulder at Sierra. Oliver followed his gaze. She sat on the end of her bed, her pinkened face a mass of emotions. She didn't seem scared, or upset, thank goodness. But she was definitely uncomfortable. And maybe even a little mad.

"Then what's—?" Oliver took a deep breath, trying to calm the nervous, adrenaline-soaked blood rushing through his veins. "Then what's going on?"

He could see Kyle bite the inside of his cheeks. "The girls started—"

_"Don't tell him!"_ From behind them, barely more than a frantic whisper.

Kyle merely rolled his eyes and lowered his voice. "The girls started some preliminary sex-ed in school a few weeks before spring break. Just some information about changes to the body and the reproductive system and what a few of them might be experiencing soon. The district sent a notice at the beginning of the school year, remember?"

Oliver felt all the blood rush to his cheeks. His shoulders automatically tensed with discomfort, as they did anytime the subject of sex and Sierra were mentioned in the same breath, and he knew that Kyle could see his distress, because he was clearly holding back his laughter.

"Anyway," Kyle continued, an amused glint in his eyes, "Sierra's got this friend at cheer camp, some little showoff looking for more attention, who started spreading some nonsense, some _very_ false information about human anatomy and reproduction, so she wanted to come to a person of authority, you know, like a_ doctor_, and get some answers. Some technical, anatomically correct answers." He patted Oliver on the shoulder; the muscles were so tense that his hand practically bounced off at the contact. "That sound okay to you?"

"Y-yeah," Oliver managed to squeak out. "Sounds—" He swallowed, trying to find and deepen his voice. "Sounds fine."

_"Gah!"_

They both turned at the sudden outburst. Sierra had her head in her hands, trying to hide the bright, blooming blush of red that had come over her entire face. She peaked out from behind her fingers and, realizing she was being watched, sprang from the bed and rushed past them. A very quiet, _"This is so embarrassing!"_ slipped through the gap of the quickly-closing bathroom door.

Oliver realized his mouth was open, but he had no idea what to say. His brain had slowed to a complete stop, as if the battery had just died or the motor jammed.

"You two are so alike sometimes, it amazes me."

He blinked, and that seemed to jostle his brain a little bit. Kyle was staring at him, and Oliver couldn't tell from the look on his face whether he was mad or amused... or maybe it was a little bit of both.

"And you know," Kyle continued, patting him on the chest softly, "that might not be a compliment. It really shouldn't happen that a man your age should have the same flustered reaction to perfectly normal functions of the human body as his _pre-_prepubescent daughter."

Oliver swallowed. He was having trouble finding his words. He felt like the biggest idiot in the smallest village. He wanted to check his chin to make sure he wasn't drooling. But that feeling wasn't anything new; he was getting used to it, getting to accept it. And it helped that Kyle was smiling at him now, and that the chest pat had turned into a shoulder rub.

"Next time, let's do this without any ten-year-olds in the room. Including you." A warm hand was on Oliver's cheek, and then soft lips pressed against his, a reassurance of love and acceptance. Kyle slowly pulled back, then crossed over to the bathroom door, knocking on it quietly. "Hey, Goose? You want some pizza?"

Through the door came a muffled, calm, _"Yeah."_

"You gonna eat it in there?"

_"Yeah."_

"One slice or two?"

_"Two, please."_

Kyle rolled his eyes, then grabbed hold of Oliver's hand and started dragging him toward the kitchen. "Coming right up."

* * *

Sierra could be shy, and easily embarrassed. She could be stubborn, single-minded, demanding. "Just like her dad," Kyle said.

Oliver was starting to believe it.

Not that it really mattered. It was just nice, seeing a piece of himself reflected back in something so precious. That he could _truly _share with Kyle, and Stacy even, in the creation of such an awe-inspiring piece of the universal puzzle as Sierra.

* * *

Sierra could be anything she wanted to be, and he wouldn't love her any less.

It was the one gift from his own parents he took with him on this whole parenting adventure—how _not_ to treat his child. They put constraints on their love, corralled it behind a slim definition of right and wrong, and when he strayed, the love couldn't follow.

And if that was the kind of _'normal'_ family they wanted him to model, he was glad to be anything but.

* * *

Sierra could be something of a wake-up call. An inspiration. Her very presence in Oliver's life had spurred him on to do so many things he wasn't sure he was ready for, but found, when confronted with them, he had all the capability and courage needed to take on any task set before him. When he had his partner by his side, his daughter's love in his heart, he felt like he could soar, and there was nothing in the world that could bring down.

Sierra had fallen asleep on the couch, her mouth a round, black _O_, a Roald Dahl book lying open on her lap.

Kyle sat on the other end of the sofa, their positions matched, but he was still awake, reading glasses perched midway down his nose while he leafed through a medical journal. So focused, so serious looking, yet breathtaking, still, after all these years. It wasn't as if Oliver forgot how handsome Kyle was. He could never forget that. It just... it still overwhelmed him sometimes. That someone so beautiful, so amazing, inside and out, would share his life with him. Share his love with him.

He looked over at Sierra and felt the same amazement, the same exhilarating rush of love.

In so many ways Kyle and Sierra were alike. None more so than their shared residence in his heart.

And he knew what needed to be done. What he had maybe waited just a little too long to do.

"Hey," he said, quietly, cognizant of the sleeping girl a few feet away.

Kyle looked up from his reading. "What's up?"

"I've been thinking..."

"Yeah?" Kyle removed the glasses and set them on the side table. The medical journal followed. Oliver had his full attention. And it suddenly made him nervous. His heart pounded wildly against his chest and his palms clammed up with sweat.

He scooted closer to Kyle on the couch, and Kyle reached over and grabbed his hand. Oliver's heart settled at the warm contact.

"I think..." He cleared his throat and started over. "I think it's time we made it official."

Kyle blinked at him.

"Made what official?"

"Let's... let's get married." Oliver gulped, almost instantly regretful. That wasn't how he wanted to do it. But it was done now. He'd come out with it. And every muscle in his body tensed as he waited for Kyle's response. Ten years of dancing around it, ten years of waiting, and he hadn't done it properly. No ring; no bended knee; no candlelight or rose petals. He would've understood if Kyle stormed out of the room or called him a heartless jerk.

But Kyle smiled at him, his face glowing with a soft warmth, and he gave Oliver's hand a quick squeeze.

"Okay." He reached back behind him for his glasses.

Oliver blinked at him. "That's it?" Had he heard wrong? His brain felt slow, sluggish; words were thick on his tongue like sticky porridge. "_'Okay'_?"

Kyle's brow creased in confusion. "I'm sorry?"

"No—it's just..." Oliver lowered his eyes. "I thought you might be, y'know, mad."

The sound of Kyle's soft, snorting laughter brought his gaze back up.

"Mad? Oliver. What are you talking about? You want to get married? Okay. Sounds good. Let's do it. What's the problem?"

"That it took me so long to ask?" he said in a hushed voice. "That I did it in such a—a crappy way? I don't even know why I asked you tonight. I mean, I know why I asked you. I just don't know why I did it _tonight_. I should have planned something better. Something more romantic. But, I dunno. I just saw you sitting there, and I realized that I wanted to marry you, in front of everyone we know, and do the whole thing with the vows and the rings and I know it would only be symbolic, and we've already got the legal stuff taken care of, but I—I want to call you my—my husband, I want to put a ring on your gorgeous hand, I want to claim you, forever, and be claimed by you, in front of the whole world... in front of God. I want all that, and I think I've always wanted all that, and I don't know why I was so scared to say anything before, or why I'm saying it all now, and please Kyle—make me stop talking already because I think I sound like an idiot!"

Kyle stared at him, saying nothing, his chin down, his eyebrows raised. Oliver breathed in and our very quickly, very shallowly... waiting. In the silence, he could hear Sierra's soft snores.

"You remember they day we got back together?" Kyle finally said.

"Of—of course."

Kyle propped his elbow on the arm of the couch and rested his cheek on a fist. Rubbing a finger along his chin meditatively, he chewed on his lower lip for a little bit before speaking. "Well, I just... I don't want you to take this the wrong way."

"What?" Every moment that passed set Oliver's heart on edge.

"It's just... to me, we've always been married. Since that day." He reached over and patted Oliver on the leg. "And I know you weren't ready to marry me then; we needed to date again—for the first time, really. But, I dunno. What I said to you that day? It was a vow. My vow to be with you for as long as you'd have me. And then the reverend gave the speech, and we kissed, and all our friends celebrated with us." His voice had gone wistful; so had his smile. "And ever since... all along... you've _been _my husband. In my heart." He sniffed, and that's when Oliver noticed the wet sheen in his eyes. "So, Oliver. I don't need the candles, or the—the romance. I'm just..." His hand rubbed Oliver's knee, up and down, up and down, almost compulsively, it seemed. "I'm happy to know you feel the same way about me that I feel about you."

"I do," Oliver said, and the meaning of his words was not lost on him.

An overwhelming need to touch Kyle engulfed him like a tsunami. He cupped Kyle gently behind the head and pulled him into a slow, rhythmic kind of kiss, each rocking his head in perfect sync with other—a flawless symmetry of motion that made warm waves of love ripple through Oliver's chest, that made him feel like he could find a home in Kyle's lips and live there forever.

Sierra let out a massively loud snore behind them, and they chuckled into each other's mouths before pulling apart.

Kyle ran his fingers over the collar of Oliver's shirt, just barely tugging on it. "I mean, we can do the whole big ceremony again, the party, the rings and the cake. But it wouldn't change anything for me. I already have what I've always wanted."

"And what's that?"

An intensely earnest look painted his face. "A home. A family."

Oliver had to kiss those serious lips again, so he did.

Both aware of the sleeping child in the room, they didn't let the impromptu make-out session go too far. But it was enough.

Oliver silently agreed with Kyle. He had everything he'd always wanted. Except...

"You know," he said, "I was thinking... There _is _something we missed out on."

"Hmm?"

"A wedding night. And a—a honeymoon."

"We just got back from vacation."

"Yeah, but it's different. We could go someplace, y'know..." He wiggled his eyebrows, and reveled in the sound of Kyle's laugh. "Someplace romantic..."

Kyle leaned his head on Oliver's shoulder, in the little swoop of bone where he always fit so perfectly. "You mean you don't think boogie-boarding and gorilla B.O. are romantic?"

They felt a slight shift of weight on the couch, heard a rustle of movement. Oliver turned, careful not to displace Kyle from his shoulder.

Sierra's head was up, one eager eye open. "Boogie-boarding?"

Chuckling, Kyle slowly got up off the couch and tugged Sierra's arm. "C'mon, Goose. Time to take yourself to bed." She groaned, then went completely limp, playing her favorite game of "Boneless" when she was asked to do something she didn't want to do. Kyle swooped down and with a quick dip of the shoulder had her in a fireman's carry. She remained motionless, heavy, her limbs floppy. Kyle winced a bit at the effort of carrying her.

Oliver felt a surge of happiness, of confidence, flow through him.

"Then I'm taking _you_ to bed," he said to Kyle. He may have even growled a bit, but he'd never cop to it.

Turning his head just enough for Oliver to see his wide, surprised eyes, Kyle paused. Then he smiled. Then he strutted out of the room like he was Tony Manero in _Saturday Night Fever_.

The tell-tale sound of a lamp shutting off let him know Sierra, in all her bonelessness, was deposited in bed. The sound of light, running footfalls followed. Oliver tilted his head, perplexed. Then Kyle was skirting around the corner, dashing back into the room. Before he knew it, Oliver found himself tackled against the arm of the couch, Kyle's body comfortably crowding him, Kyle's mouth all over him, cascading his face and neck in wet, supple kisses.

Oliver's hands roamed behind his head, through his slightly sun-damaged hair, down his shoulders, under his jaw, and he wasn't sure if he was trying to stop Kyle or encourage him.

Finally, his brain started talking sense. "Sierra's just—_mmm_—in the other room."

"So?"

"So, you are—" The gentle scrape of Kyle's teeth on his earlobe made it incredibly difficult to think... talk... breathe. "—incorrigible."

"And what're ya gonna do about it, hmm?"

Oliver cupped Kyle behind his ears, pulled his head up, looked him straight in the eye. "Marry you."

The smile on Kyle's face could have lit up an amphitheater. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." Oliver flicked his nose. "I'm gonna marry that smirk right off your face."

"How about you marry my brains out?"

"Kyle!" Oliver gasped.

"What?"

His face, voice, heart softened. "I love you."

"So," Kyle murmured against Oliver's lips a few minutes later, "about this honeymoon..."

* * *

Sierra could stay with her aunt Gigi next spring break.


End file.
